


Requiem

by Kariki



Series: Climbing Class Prompts [1]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bad LSD Trip, Blood, Drug Use, Funeral, Hallucinations, Lost Chance at Love, M/M, Mentioned Cannibalism, Prompt Fic, Wendigo!Josh, mentioned gore, mentioned past suicide attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 05:11:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4816271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kariki/pseuds/Kariki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris can't handle being at Josh's wake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiem

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "consider this" post about climbing class... and how Chris turns to drugs to cope with the death of Josh (so he can see him through hallucinations). Do u think u can write something based on that? it seemed like a cool idea.
> 
> This wasn't beta read and I only had about 4 hours sleep when I wrote it so I apologize in advance for any typos/errors that might pop up.

The casket was sleek, black, and probably absurdly expensive... and it was open. 

They had put a white lace handkerchief over Josh's face like that could hide the fact his skull had been crushed. The staff at the funeral home had done their best though. The head under the white cloth was head shaped at least... not Josh shaped, but head shaped... They even put make up over the bruises and cuts that couldn't be hid.

But Chris knew the truth.

They had him identify the body after all.

Chris swallowed back bile at the memory. 

Somehow it was worse than seeing Josh being cut in half... Perhaps he hadn't believed it then? Josh hadn't looked dead, even as he was hanging limp on that wall but then again, Josh hadn't really been dead then, had he?

“Fuck,” Chris swore under his breath, closing his eyes.

He couldn't do this... he couldn't fucking do this.

“Chris...?” He felt Sam's hand on his arm. She was trying to be reassuring but he could feel her hand trembling.

“I...” Chris opened his eyes and looked at her. He could still see the bruising on her forehead through her make up. “I-I can't do this.”

He didn't run from the room but it was a close thing. He could see Mike and Ashley off to the side but they didn't try to stop him. No one did.

The Washington house was crowded with mourners. Most of them were only here for propriety's sake, afraid of getting on the Washington's bad side rather than mourning the death of their last child... but it was easy to get past them. The back yard, usually lit string lights and tiki torches, was dark and cold but it was empty.

There was an old, handmade swing set toward the back, just in front of a tall wall that separated the Washington property from the rest of Burbank. He and Josh used to play on the attached play fort when they were younger, used to play their DS while they sat on the swings while Hannah and Beth tried to put flowers in their hair while they were distracted.

Chris's stomach turned at the memories.

That would never happen again.

Chris looked up at the house, lit up in the dark as though his best friend's body wasn't in the living room, being talked over.

Who the fuck had the wake in their own fucking house, for Christ's sake?!

Chris reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and felt the tin mint tub there.

He really shouldn't take any of it here – he shouldn't be taking it at all! – but there were a lot of things that shouldn't happen. Shouldn't have happened...

The tin was an Altoids tin that he had bought earlier today, just for this purpose. He had dumped the mints out and instead placed two or three bits of paper inside. It was one of these that he took out and, hesitating only a moment, put one of the brightly colored bits on his tongue.

It wasn't like Chris had never taken anything recreationally before but underaged drinking and a few joints on the weekend was nothing compared what was on the bit of blotter paper. It had been so easy to find a dealer willing to sell him the hard stuff but then again, that was the point, wasn't it?

He closed his eyes again and used his toes to rock himself back and forth on the low swing he sat in.

“At least they put me in my own clothes.”

Chris stopped his rocking. After a few seconds, he nodded.

“I always hated monkey suits. Wonder if they put my favorite sneakers on me. Dude, I'll be so fucking pissed if they didn't. What, I'm suppose to kick it in the afterlife in lame tennis shoes? Fuck that.”

“Yeah,” Chris's voice sounded rough, even to his own ears.

“Come on, Cochise, don't be like that!” Josh protested. “If you're going to fuck yourself up, you can at least look at me.”

Chris opened his eyes and dragged his gaze up to the swing beside him. Josh smiled widely, or tried to at least. Half of his face was limp and unresponsive and covered in blood. At least his head wasn't crushed in... not like the last time he saw him for real... not like the last time he hallucinated him.

“You're something else, Cochise, you know that?” Josh shook his head, his teeth startling white compared to the blood on his face. “I told you before how much hallucinations fucking suck and what do you do? Go out and get hardcore stoned so you can start having them! The fuck bro?”

“I... I wanted to see you...”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Josh waved a hand, dismissing his excuses. “I'm actually a bit flattered. Always was a sucker for the big, extravagant displays of emotion.”

“You shouldn't have died, Josh.” Chris shook his head, staring at his dead best friend. Jesus, he was wearing the clothes he wore up to the mountain. Not the psycho costume but his actual, proper clothes. They would be too warm for California now, even a California winter.

“Dude, it was just a matter of time,” Josh shook his head. “Fuck, after Beth and Hannah, you had to talk me off my apartment building's roof! I didn't even make it onto the ledge because of you. You even made me see Dr. Hill the next day!”

Chris nodded. He remembered that night. Josh leaning over the wall of the building, asking Chris if he thought he could make the road and get run over too. He hadn't known if Josh had been joking or not but he had wrapped his arms around his friend's waist and pulled him back. They had sent Josh away for a month after that and then everything was fine.

Everything was suppose to be fucking fine!

Chris looked down at his hands, clenching them hard enough for his nails to cut into his palms. He watched as blood started to pool around his fingers and drip onto the grass. He could hear each drop slid across his skin.

“I didn't want you to die, Josh.”

“There are things worse than death, Cochise.” Chris heard the swing beside him creak as Josh stood and climb up onto the rubber seat. “I mean... did you fucking see Hannah? Yikes.”

Chris frowned at the cheerful tone. He unclenched his fists and stared at the white handkerchief in his hand, its lace now stained with his blood. It felt like he was holding nothing at all.

“Yeah... I saw her.” Chris muttered, pulling the white fabric over his hands and watched as it started to fall like snow.

“Guess I ought to be glad she didn't start snacking on me before going after you guys,” Josh chattered on, the wooden swing set creaking along with his words. “I mean, my funeral is fucked up enough as it is. Think Hannah would have left them enough to bury?”

“... Maybe,” Chris answered softly as the snow blew out of his hands and scattered across the yard. He looked up but the swing beside him was empty. He looked up further to see Josh crouched on the wooden beam holding the swings up.

“Think I would have made a good monster, Chris? If Hannah hadn't thought I would make a good dinner?”

Chris met his friend's milky white eyes.

“You always liked movie monsters, Josh.”

Josh grinned sharp teeth and reached out an inhumanly long arm toward Chris. The hand that touched his cheek was cold and clammy and the nails were sharp. He leaned into the touch anyway.

“I'm so sorry, Josh,” Chris turned his head and speak into the cold palm. “I should have done something sooner... shouldn't have let you go alone for so long... should have known something was wrong.”

“Should have fucked me when you had the chance?” The voice was raspy and cold like the mountain.

“Shouldn't have been such a fucking idiot.” Chris met the wendigo's gaze straight on. “I loved you since the 3rd grade, Josh. And I fucked that up because I was too afraid of fucking it up...”

“We're all fucked up here, Cochise.”

“We are now, in any case.” Chris smiled and the wendigo returned it.

“I could just eat you up...” The cold, dead hand on his cheek jerked away as though burned and Chris watched as Josh tightened up, ready to spring forward. He saw what these things could do up on that mountain, could rip someone's head off with flick of their wrist.

He closed his eyes, waiting to feel his death descend on him, to hear that dreadful scream again and know that it was Josh. This was the price of his redemption. He had let Josh die and now he would die for it.

The screaming cry never came. Instead, he felt a rush of wind and heard a sickening thud in front of him.

Chris opened his eyes and met Josh's green ones, staring up at him from the ground. There was no accusation in the dead gaze but Chris felt it all the same.

Josh wasn't a monster, no matter how hard he tried to be. They weren't on the mountain anymore, they were in the backyard of a ruined family and Josh...

Josh was dead and never coming back.

Chris bit back a sob and fell to his knees by Josh's dead body and felt something building up in his chest. With shaking fingers, he reached out to close those green eyes, the eyes he had fallen in love with as a child, the eyes he had gazed into countless times but had done nothing about... but as soon as his fingers touched the ice cold skin of his friend's face, Josh disappeared, swirling away in a flurry of snow.

The scream Chris had been holding back echoed through the yard and people rushed out of the house toward him but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

No matter how many drugs he took, no matter how strong the doses, it wouldn't change anything. 

He had failed Josh when he had needed him and now... now Josh was never coming back and Chris...

Now Chris had to live with it, whether he wanted to or not.

**Author's Note:**

> Perhaps this isn't EXACTLY what was wanted because the post in question was talking about but this is what I ended up writing. I just had the thought of Chris starting to trip and imagining Wendigo!Josh but finding the sight of his Josh's dead body more horrifying. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
